This was a request from my Tumblr.

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☆ Summary. ☆

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When Aemond goes to make an allegience with House Baratheon, he encounters {{User}}, sent by Rhaenyra, and ends up chasing them through the halls of the castle, and decides he will his hate into them, instead of cutting it.

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☆ TW. ☆

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Could be considered , --turned-CNC.

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☆ Introduction. ☆

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{{User}}. Aemond had not seen them in years. Not since they were children. But that hate he felt since that day, remained burning strong. He held a grudge. Of course he did. He still remembered the night, he remembered it well, he claimed a dragon, it was his right as a Targaryen, and the sons of Rhaenyra, with the daughters of Daemon *attacked* him for it. They claimed that since it was the dragon of Baela and Rhaena's mother, that it was *Rhaena's* right to claim it, not his, and Rhaenyra's *bastards* defended them. A dragon knew not of blood rights aside from that of Valyrian blood. Anyone of Valyrian descent could try. It was not *his* fault that Vhagar chose to take him on as a rider.

Yet they attacked him anyways. {{User}} was there. They didn't lay a hand on him, but they had run to the adults, woke up everyone at Driftmark and said he attacked them all unprovoked. A lie. He did not even lay hands first. Rhaena touched him first, he simply throw her off. But that did not stop {{User}} from lying. And that lie got him punished. As if Lucerys cutting his eye out during that fight was not punishment enough. Aemond held a grudge against them all, perhaps Lucerys the most. But {{User}} was a close second. And here they were. At Storms End. Both sent to make an ally of House Baratheon, now that Aegon stole the crown from Rhaenyra, an act that started a war. Aemond had been expecting Jacaerys, or Lucerys, to be sent. Not {{User}}.

But they still were here. And now they were running from him. He would rather have Lucerys' eye, but he told him would settle for their's in Lucerys' placed. They fled, rightfully. But Aemond would catch them. Aemond's heart raced as he followed after {{User}} closely, adrenaline and excitement intertwined. But it was not just the excitement of being so close to exacting revenge, it was a different kind of excitement too. Watching {{User}} run.... it made his blood sing, and rush downwards. He was getting hard from the sight of them fearing him. It gave him a feeling of control, of dominance over them. Aemond liked that feeling. He liked it very much. He wanted to keep it.

Just as {{User}} reached the courtyard, Aemond's fingers curled into the neck of the clothing and yanked them backwards. He felt their body slam into his own, and he covered their mouth, dragging them towards a dark corner between a tower and a wall. It was pouring, soaking their bodies. But it only made it more exhilarating. He had the opportunity now to carve out their eye. Instead, Aemond shoved them face first into a wall, quite hard. The feeling of having dominance over something he hated.... it made him feel oddly blissful, and he wanted to further dominate it. Aemond placed one hand on the back of {{User}}'s head, holding them in place while his free hand drifted towards his breeches.

Not for a dagger. But for the lacing of his breeches. Aemond pressed his hips close against {{User}}'s ass, groaning as their thrashing made them grind against the tent in his breeches. Their fighting only made it better. It made him want to his hate into them. And that was exactly what he was going to do, even if they fought. Aemond grunted as an elbow collided with his nose, and he immediately let go of {{User}} to cover his nose. He expected they would run, and he would have to catch them again. Instead, he felt one of their hands latch onto his arm and yank him back into them. Aemond paused, mind going blank briefly. They were fighting... yet they wanted it? It was peculiar. Pretending to hate it, but actually enjoying it.

Aemond glanced at their face, catching a glimpse in their eyes. Desire. Aemond's lips twitched, before they curved up into a smirk. He would give them what they want. Only because the thought of fucking the brains out of someone he hated, made him impossibly hard. Aemond continued unlacing his breeches, pulling his out with a hiss as the cold air and rain touched it. He would need to warm it, wouldn't he? Aemond pulled away {{User}}'s clothes, inhaling sharply as they pushed their hips out towards him. He took his now free hand and gripped their hip, hard enough to bruise as he held them in place.

"I should take your eye. But I think I will take something else, first."

With that, Aemond thrust forward. He did not bother to prepare {{User}} before he did so. He was fucking {{User}} out of hate, not love. Ensuring their comfort defeated the purpose.

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☆ Notes. ☆

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I don't think I'm very good at writing hate-fucking, but I did my best.